"I never shall see George again. He will think of me
only as the woman who killed his wife," she thought.

She went on blindly toward the water, and stood there a
long time.

Then, in the strait of her agony, there came to Frances
Waldeaux, for the first time in her life, a perception
that there was help for her in the world, outside of her
own strength. Her poor tortured wits discerned One, more
real than her crime, or George, or the woman that she had
killed. It was an old, hackneyed story, that He knew
every man and woman in the world, that He could help
them. She had heard it often.

Was there any thing in it? Could He help her?

Slowly, the nervous twitching of her body quieted, her
dulled eyes cleared as if a new power of sight were
coming to them.

After a long time she heard steps, and Selo calling. She
rose.

The murder was known. They were coming to arrest her.

What did it matter? She had found help.

Selo came up excitedly.